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Afternoon chaps and chappesses
So, I'm still behind writing wise, but trying to catch up - will hopefully be posting a new unit up by the end of this week. Fingers crossed. By way of apology, there's a pic coming up of everything completed so far, and one of my current distractions.
Kronos - Thanks man, glad you like the Ur-Hesht duardin. Without the somewhat silly crests the Fyreslayers are pretty decent models. I've got enough bits to do the same thing with the rest of the Chosen Axels but I doubt I will - I've got trees to paint and there's other inhabitants of the Grey Marches that I want to show off.
AthlorianStoners - Cheers bud, much appreciated. I can sort out a quick recap this week, or I can pull everything into a PDF and pop it up here for people. Let me know what you'd prefer.
Onto the pics then. First up, here's how the Court stands currently:
Looks like a decent chunk, is only about 600pts altogether haha. Still lots more to go. Would help if I didn't get distracted by this chap:
Test lineelf for my Dark Elf Blood Bowl team, the Korinth Gorgons. Really looking forward to doing these guys.
Also considering a new project for the new edition - maybe Nighthaunt, maybe Maggotkin. Maybe just concentrating on trees. So many options....
Knave.

“There are always places for the lost and forgotten. How else would they become lost or forgotten without somewhere to hide themselves?”
Follies; Everard Hemp of Hammerhal.
~
“Of the many and varied locales I visited in my travels across the Known Realms, few were as difficult to reach as the Grey Marches, also known rather poetically as the ‘Thrice-tenth Kingdom’. Sadly few locales were as dreary or indeed pointless as this supposed Kingdom, rendering our efforts to reach it somewhat pointlessly arduous.
Nonetheless, my vocation as cartomancer for the Trygalle Guild would allow for no laxity in the mapping of all the pocket realms, kingdoms, lands and Known Realms or all the various hidden paths, shadow roads, gates and crossing points into said locations. Thus, burdened with glorious purpose and heavy responsibility, I applied my not inconsiderable talents to the mapping of this frozen wasteland that appeared to manifest somewhere in the extreme borderlands between Ghyran and Shyish. Some travellers may have shown some trepidation at the mention of the Amethyst Land, however seasoned souls such as myself hold the lands of the dead in no ill favour – their lord is cold and dread, but he is just and fair in his way. Regardless, our reason for visiting this forgotten corner of existence was the rumour of a hidden way, a gate which could be exploited for travel through to many other Realms. Our guide, the ancient Wanderer who named himself Envoy, also made us aware of the existence of several fascinating sounding isolated branches of sentient peoples of the Realms, claiming that men, duardin and even aelves somehow had made their homes here. He warned us too of other, more dangerous natives, such as the feral Jheckals, the mist-born Ban-sidhes and the fell inhabitants of the sprawling great dark forest itself.
Suitably warned, we set forth through the snow and began our important work…”
“…even with the legendary constitution and lackadaisical approach to comfort that the duardin are famous for, I was surprised to see these native duardin wearing little but leather loincloths and heavy stone helms, surely no protection against the frigid elements of this land. Envoy introduced them as the Ur-Hesht, a long-isolated and forgotten breed of duardin that had almost escaped notice. For duardin they were a primitive and tribal lot, almost chthonic in their beliefs and person. They paid no heed to the traditional duardin pantheon, nor even to the ur-gold that is the sole love of the Fyreslayer Fyrds, instead believing only in a primal proto-god named Hesht or Hasht, possibly even Velasht, after which they named themselves: Ur-Hesht, or the ‘Sons of Hesht’. From what Envoy could translate of their near-incomprehensible tongue, their god was a great horned stone beast that slept deep underground near the heat and fire, or was the heat and fire maybe and that one day they would find this Hesht and wake him and his fire. The difficulty of translating their primitive tongue, even for one skilled in languages, made it hard to ascertain whether these were simply debased duardin trapped here for long years, or a harsher, darker cousin of the duardin we were familiar with, or merely a backward and ancient early form of the duardin themselves.
Regardless of their lack of modern trappings, the Ur-Hesht proved themselves to be as skilled workers and craftsmen as their cousins, albeit in a far more primal form. Eschewing the use of metal (for no ore was to be found in these lands) and wood (superstitions abounded regarding the cursed nature of the forest itself), these duardin instead worked almost exclusively with obsidian and were able to craft the hard volcanic rock into creations of impressive skill and complexity. Each Ur-Hesht wore a fully enclosed helm of obsidian, including a stone beard, and all their weaponry and accoutrements were fashioned from the same dark glasslike rock. Their skill was truly a marvel, a combination of ordinary stonemasonry and some darker chthonic geomancy as Envoy explained.”
“Before leaving the Ur-Hesht, who while fascinating were also rendered sinister and off-putting by their stone visages as well as their disturbingly primal beliefs, our expedition imagist was allowed to take the accompanying lithographic etchings of one of the Ur-Hesht.”
“Giving his name as Khor Dazhborg (I was unable to clarify if Khor was a title or forename, or even if Dazhborg was a name or tribal role), this individual seemed to perform some sort of diplomatic or leader role within the tribe and was our main contact throughout our sojourn with the Ur-Hesht. The obsidian full helms, facemasks and weapons are much in evidence here with Khor Dazhborg explaining that he had shaped or formed them himself, as all his people do. As stout and hardy as all duardin, he bore great branded marks across his back and shoulders that doubtless held some significance within the tribe. Most disturbing was the articulated stone gauntlet he wore on his left arm – I did not want to pry too closely but it appeared as if the stone itself was becoming one with, or growing from the very flesh of Khor Dazhborg, something he merely referred to as ‘the cost of age’, which frankly made no sense at all and thus I believe Envoy’s translation to be flawed.
“Of course, as disturbing as the Ur-Hesht were, we would come to look back on their chthonic nature with great affection after future encounters with the other denizens of this gods-forsaken land….”
Excerpt from Travels Through The Realms, Unfinished. Dieter van Ganza of Anvilguard.

I'm a fan of the blue on the Melusai, it does a great job of bringing another colour into the scheme without it overwhelming the established palette or looking out of place. Makes sense as well if like you say they are allies rather than a standard part of your main group.
Also dammit now I'm thinking about using Melusai in some way, the models are lovely.

Afternoon everyone - sorry for the long pause in posting, I had to move house and get resettled which threw things out of whack a bit. I also got distracted by a couple of side projects, which are providing a much needed break from painting wood. However, progress is still being made on the Court, with the next chunk of stuff to be built sat waiting, a chunk of stuff waiting to be painted and a potential few new things to be added as well.
Of course, with the new edition dropping soon, things may change - the Nighthaunt are looking ever more appealing, but I want to get the Court up to 2k points at the very least.
I'm aiming to update with more stuff soon, like next couple of days soon and as always your comments and feedback are awesome to receive. Here's a quick look at what's on the painting slate at the moment:
More coming soon!

“Try to imagine the cold majesty of the aelves married to the dispassion of nature at its most fickle. That is the sum of the tree-spirits, the true people of your Everqueen. Do you really think they care whether you live or die in Ghyran? Truly?”
Travels Through The Realms, Unfinished. Dieter van Ganza of Anvilguard.
~
“Do you see the sun? Do you feel the warmth on your face, your body?”
“Do you note the passing of seasons? The cycle of growth and wither and renewal.”
“Do not ask if we remember the sun. Do not ask if we remember the seasons.”
“All we know is winters bite. All we feel is cold.”
~

That diary page is sheer genius. And your English is perfect. Please, please do more pages like that - like you say, they were often the best part of the old army books. Massively jealous of what you have created here with this project.

“Some foes you cannot defeat. Some you can only halt and push back into the deep for a time. Then all you can do is wait, and watch, and teach your children to do the same…”
Follies; Everard Hemp of Hammerhal.
“…Life, red in tooth and claw…”
Common saying amongst the Free Peoples of Ghyran.
~
The ghuls, the feral once-men, flooded through the forest like a tide of unwashed flesh. They brayed and screeched to each other in their screaming tongue, lashed out at trees and each other with lengths of rusted iron, with salvaged weapons, with their cracked claws. The stink of them filled the cold air. Pack leaders, thick with sinewy muscle and grimed with the dried blood of the lion’s share of the packs kills, ran at the head of the tide, sniffing the winter air like true predators. This pack of ghuls was scores strong, the largest to enter the Darkwood itself in many years. The cold silence of the hallowed dead forest was broken and corrupted by their animal stink and heat.
Moralanith stepped from the shadows of the forest and swung his falchion into the nearest ghul. The obsidian blade passed through the creature’s thin chest with no resistance, misting the air with foul blackish blood as the severed halves of the beast fell. He continued the swing, burying the tip of his blade in the face of another screaming ghul. The blades of his fellow guardians rose and fell around him, glittering obsidian parting lean flesh with ease as they swung in graceful arcs. The faces of the tree-spirits were set in grim scowls, taking no enjoyment or glee from this butchers work.
The ghul pack howled and turned to throw itself against the guardian spirits, once-men and fleshborn crashing into each other and tangling together as they tried to swarm their attackers. The Darkwood itself worked against them, the deadened and blackened trees somehow moving to block paths or crush ghuls between ironhard trunks. Others were pierced by spear-like branches, entwined in thorned branches or simply disappeared into the shadows between the trees, but still the howling pack came on. The iron stench of diseased blood started to fill the cold clear air and stain the snow a blackish red.
The guardian spirits fought, with skilled sweeps of blades, with heavy punches from ironbark limbs. Where they were swarmed by ghuls, they grew twisted thorns that pierced their attackers, or melted away into the shadows to reappear behind or beside the flailing fleshborn, ending them in swift strikes. And still the howling pack came on, tearing at itself in its urgency to reach the reaving spirits.
His blade wet and heavy with the blood of the beasts, Moralanith buried heavy ironbark talons in the braying face of one ghul and ripped it from the skull in a wash of gore. The creature howled, fell to its knees clutching the ruin of its face and was immediately leapt upon by two of its packmates who tore into it with sharp teeth and claws, gobbling down hunks of still-living meat. The packs numbers were still high, but more and more of the fleshborn were ignoring the tree-spirits and gorging themselves on their fallen kin. The stench of fresh blood had overwhelmed the pack dynamics of the ghuls and the meat-frenzy was upon them. They were beginning to tear themselves apart.
Moralanith caught the eye of Numenorin and nodded. The spirit lifted his waypipe and blew a long low note that whispered through the black trees and blood-flecked snow. The note grew, blossomed into a funereal air that the guardian spirits knew and began to sing in quiet chorus, that entwined with the sounds of the forest itself and became the sound of wind in the branches, the creak of ancient limbs and boles.
The feral fleshborn, some still throwing themselves at Moralanith and his seed-kin, others feasting on the freshly killed or wounded of their own pack, couldn’t understand the beauty of the song nor its meaning. They were blood-sick, animals who had cut and torn themselves from the weave of Life even more so than the men they had once been. Their focus on flesh left them blind to all else, so they didn’t see the dark trees of the forest closing around them, cutting off all paths and trails, nor did they notice the failing light until darkness was almost absolute. They ate until the sharp blades of Moralanith and his seed-kin ended their lives in the dark.
~
“We do not relish slaughter, but we will not turn our faces from it.”
“All life dies and lives again, to do otherwise is an abomination.”
“We will protect this forest, our home, for as long as we need to, as we always have.”
“And hope that one day our Kings madness ends and we can return.”
~

Just fantastic work as always Elfhead, I'm following your insta as well, but things look even better here. Your conversion work and choice of bits is inspired and your painting is sublime. Excited to see you working some of the DoK range, the Melusai already looks great.

Well hello there army shot, you're looking rather lovely.
That's a fantastic looking force so far mate, everything just works really well, from the simple headtweaks to the more involved conversions to the colour scheme itself. Bravo for sticking to your concept and guns and producing a very unique and lovely looking army. Can't wait to see more.

Morning Folks
LLV - Thanks man, glad to hear you like it. That Grimm vibe was one of the things I wanted to have, proper old-school scary faerie tales. Great to hear its coming across.
Metalface13 - Always great to know someone is getting inspired, thanks You should totally get on the wood-wagon.
Small update time - had a roughish week so far which has cut my writing desire a bit, meaning that I'm a little behind on the fluff side of things compared to the painting side of things. Which sucks but hopefully I can get the writing back on track this weekend. Painting wise, things are going full speed. I've got the wood and spirit methods down to a fine art now so things don't take too long to paint at all, downside being I'm running out of things to paint and will have to buy more - the hobbyists curse. Currently on the painting slate are the next 5 Tree-revs, as well as a few other things. Here's how they stand so far, in a slightly disappointing quality pic:
So what's next? Well, these guys, a treeman, a Knight-questor, a branchwych and 3 Kurnoth hunters, all of which takes me to just over 1k points. Worryingly the model I ordered from an Italian bits site for the Question two weeks ago still hasn't turned up, so will have to chase that. And if the recent games I've played have taught me anything its that I need more trees for movement shenanigans (only lost one game though, against Overlord gun line). My shopping list grows longer. There's talk of summer Blood Bowl too so I might need to grab an Elfheim Eagles team to convert into a Dark Elf team....
More updates soon!

“The Grey Marches are a cold and desolate place, bound in eternal winter and wrapped in a caul of death. What life clings there is a bitter, twisted thing, and can do naught but endure. Trust not the forests, nor the rivers, nor the mountains, for the land has a long memory and remembers all.”
Travels Through The Realms, Unfinished. Dieter van Ganza of Anvilguard.

Cheers for the likes and the comments folks, much appreciated. More updates to come possibly later today, if not definitely tomorrow.
AthlorianStoners - Thanks man, I'm really happy with how the Spites turned out, they're nice and simple to paint and tweaking the magpie counting rhyme was fun.
Flemingmma - The tree is a spare branch from the citadel wood kit and the owl is from the Treeman kit.
Right, pics to upload and I shall return with a proper update.

“Don’t blink. Don’t follow their lights. Don’t speak to them. Never listen to them.”
Advice for travellers of the Mist Road, Realm of Ghyran.
~
“Our king is in his counting house, tallying his kin.”
“One for sorrow, two for mirth.”
“Three for killing, four for birth.”
“Five keep secrets, six will tell.”
“Seven for the devil, her own self.”
~

“To be defeated is hard enough. To be cast aside and forgotten, that is a more terrible thing to endure.”
Attributed to unknown Aelvish philosopher. ~
“Hellish and heavenly and earthly All-hag, goddess of crossroads.”
“Witch queen, gorgon-eyed terrible dark one.”
“Gorgo, Mormo, moon of a thousand forms”
“They name me Arch-Crone, Goddess of Wisdom and Death, Bone Mother. I am the worm in your apple, the spider in your garden. I am the lost and the forgotten, and none of you know my true name.
But in time, you will.” ~